


the city tonight is indecisive

by agent_orange



Category: Hair - MacDermot/Rado/Ragni
Genre: Multi, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-14
Updated: 2010-02-14
Packaged: 2017-10-07 06:31:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/62372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agent_orange/pseuds/agent_orange





	the city tonight is indecisive

It's not the first time they've touched (Claude's fingered Sheila under the cover of nightfall and a blanket in the park; he's let Berger rub himself off against Claude's thigh on the train as it screeched into the station), but it's the first time they're together like this, and Claude is so overwhelmed by it that he half-considers bolting from the room and going to find Jeanie. Jeanie is familiar and warm and always in awe of him, but he knows he'll feel like a jackass in the morning when he wakes wrapped around her, swell of her stomach under his hand a constant reminder that as sweet as she is, this is a bad idea. The last time he slept with her, she'd cried afterwards, stroking his sweaty hair and saying the baby was changing her aura. He doesn't want to go through that again, has a vague feeling of pity for Hud.

Sheila moans, long and low, and Claude remembers where he is. Abandoned warehouse, buzzed and high and watching as Berger pulls away to breathe and kick off his jeans completely. He struggles with them, making Sheila laugh and slide her hands through his hair, tugging impatiently.

"Hold on just a moment, Queen Sheila," Berger says, and she smacks his head, though there's no real anger behind it. He leaps up and over to the door, where Claude's standing, and drags him into a kiss, sweet taste of girl still lingering on his tongue. It makes Claude go weak in the knees, but Berger's there to hold him up, to keep him standing when Claude can't do it for himself. He hooks his fingers in the belt loops of Claude's jeans, pulls him close. He can feel Berger pressed up against his thigh, hot and hard and curving just a bit to the right, rubbing against the denim until he groans. "Claudio," he says against Claude's neck, the vibrations like electricity running through his body. "Can I?"

"Yeah," he replies. "Yeah, yeah, anything, just--"

Berger hauls Claude over to the blankets Sheila's set down, dumping him onto the ground and reaching instantly for his shirt. "Too many goddamn clothes," he complains, nearly tearing them in the hurry to get Claude naked. They kiss, Berger's tongue easing its way between Claude's lips while his hand is squeezing Claude's ass hard enough to bruise.

"Easy, tiger," Sheila laughs. "You were the one worried about scaring him off," and that's when he realizes exactly how much Berger wants this, and how much Claude wants it, too--wants both of them. He's never touched another guy like this before, but it's not like he's going to say no when Berger asks wordlessly, hands threading through Claude's hair and guiding him until he's on his knees.

"You're beautiful," Sheila says. "Both of you." She curls her fingers through Claude's, warm and comforting, touches herself with her free hand.

Berger tastes like salt and sweat, though there's still the smoky-sweetness of the pot lingering in Claude's mouth; he almost chokes at first, but he eases back, tentatively uses his hand around the base while he licks at the head. He closes his eyes, gets so lost that he barely notices when Sheila's breathing gets heavier and her encouragements become more broken. "Fuck, yeah, do it," she murmurs, and Berger comes almost immediately after, not managing to bite back a whimper. His fingers tug Claude's hair hard, but the pain barely registers. He's close, too--closer than he expected, and it surprises him. He wraps a hand around his dick to finish himself off, but Sheila stops him, says, "No, let me," and digs around for her jeans. There's the crinkle of a wrapper (it doesn't come as a surprise to him that she's got a condom; Sheila's always prepared for both the good and the bad, always has a schedule, a list, a plan, and Claude likes that about her) and she puts it on him in one smooth move.

When he's in her, it's better than pot or LSD, or running outside in the middle of a thunderstorm and letting the rain wash over him. Sheila's hot and wet around him, wrapping her long, pale legs around his waist and squeezing hard enough to leave marks. She's whispering things like _yes, yes, please,_ and _oh my God_, and right now, it's all he needs to believe that there is one. _Harder_, she says, and he's never been one to deny her, can't resist her drive and determination, how she focuses in on one thing and does it right, whatever it is.

She bites down onto his lip when she comes, breaking the skin and drawing blood; it tastes warm, like salt and copper, but he doesn't care. "Claude," she whispers, and he's coming, colors lighting up the backs of his eyelids: red and purple, white and green, and he can't count or put names to them all.

It takes awhile for Sheila to finish, floating from one orgasm to another like she's on a never-ending trip, and Claude thinks he could stay here forever, do _this_ forever, knowing that his hands and Berger's mouth (_fuck_, Berger's mouth--lips shinywet and swollen red) are making her feel like this. He rests his head on the curve of her breasts, closes his eyes; the beat of her heart like a caged bird flapping its wings. She strokes his hair, and he pulls her closer, wants to fall asleep curled around her.

Berger, who's energetic all the time (practically bounces off _walls_ when he's surrounded by them) doesn't chill out afterwards. "Let's go _do_ something," he says, mouth folding into a pout when Sheila closes her eyes, and he looks just like a kid who's not getting his way. "We could go scare some tourists, or go to the movies and throw popcorn at people." Claude can't tell if it's really late or really early, but it's one of the two, so Berger's plan probably isn't going to work. He lets Berger pull him to his feet, though; Claude's hands are sweaty and his knees are week, but Berger doesn't let him fall. His presence is warm and solid at Claude's back--_safe_.

"It's late, baby," Sheila says. "We'll go to the park in the morning. Let's just sleep."


End file.
